Chapter Twenty-Three

It’s dark inside the bar and it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the new lighting, a stark contrast to the bright, blustery evening outside in the harbour town of Howth.

The feel of the cold, cobbled floor beneath my shoes takes me back in time, as do the smell of beer and the noise of the TV in the background. I remember how we giggled as I manoeuvred across it in my heels from the night before, wearing Tom’s Guns N’ Roses sweatshirt and his jeans that just about stayed up round my waist.

Memories. This place is just bursting with memories of us. It’s where we spent the most wonderful beginnings that December and it’s where we tore each other apart with the most painful goodbye when he left for London just some months later.

I glance at the barman, convinced he’s the same one as before, as are some of the customers who sit along the bar on stools, sipping frothy Guinness after work or taking time out from life fishing on the sea. It’s a welcoming place, that’s for sure, and I’m reminded of how I fell in love with it almost as much as I fell in love with Tom.

‘Ah, you made it! Charlie, come and join us! The party’s over here!’

The familiarity of Tom’s voice makes me jump and I follow the sound to the same booth where we once sat huddled up by the fire on that cold December day, the day we made plans to run away together and live on love and music.

But, the party?

The fire in the hearth is out today, just a mass of grey and white ashes, and Tom isn’t alone as I’d expected, which throws me. I thought it was going to be just the two of us. I must look like a rabbit caught in headlights as I stand clutching my handbag with about twenty pairs of eyes staring at me. Tom waves me over and I approach his table, the same one we sat at before.

‘So this is your Dublin girl! Wow, I can see why she broke your heart, Tommy boy!’ says one of his friends in a very strong and distinctive New York accent. I recognize him as the bass player in Blind Generation. If Sophie could only see me now … she’d probably murder me actually. As would my entire family, not to mention my husband.

I get dizzy looking around me, totally flummoxed at the gathering of people who I assume to be band and crew members, all merry and loud. It’s hard to even find Tom amongst them. So much for our dinner and drinks … so much for our coffee and catch-up and moonlit walks on the pier.